Your Song
by ArthurIsAwesome
Summary: You taught me how to play, and today I'll show you how much I appreciate it. Not an accurate description, basically America just plays the piano for England. Slightly on the fluffy side.


**This is... God, this is so short x_x I'm trying to get back into writing but I have absolutely NO motivation whatsoever. I typed most of this in one night, but then I had to go to bed and so the ending sort of tapered off into nothingness... I'm also really sad that this was the story that caught my attention instead of the one where Alfred clumsily admits to Arthur he's gay and they proceed to have sex in a tree house. Maybe next time, yeah? Anyways, be gentle with your reviews and stuff, I'm not really looking for critique, I'm just trying to jog my writing abilities again...**

**Enjoy**

A glance out the window.

A shimmer in twin, bright blue eyes, and glint of light off his glasses.

A silent chuckle.

The day had been blindingly beautiful, the sun high and unhidden by clouds, and the breeze a welcome friend that brought only a slight chill to the air. Alas, the day was ending, the proud sun slipping slowly behind the horizon, readying itself to wake up the other side of the world so that others may enjoy the wonderful day that was to come. None of the lights were on inside America's old, faded house, but all the windows were open to let in the reddish-orange light of the sunset. It was surprisingly bright, and the nation found he rather liked it when everything was tinted with such a cozy, lovely shade. Summer evenings were the best, he had decided, the warmest and most enjoyable.

Autumn was creeping upon them, however, and he found he didn't mind. What with Halloween around the corner, (which gave him a chance to dress up like the fool he was and hand out candy to all of the children that lived in his small Pennsylvanian neighborhood) he was actually excited. Winter, however, was a completely different matter. Still, he figured he had another month before he'd really have to start thinking about the snow and the running noses and condensation-covered glasses dripping cold water down his frozen cheeks.

Leaning over slightly in his small black chair, he licked the tip off his index finger and thumb, flicking an old, yellowed page over. Eyes barely glancing over the title of the piece, the young man flashed a small, sweet smile to nothing in particular. His tanned fingers slid over the ivory and ebony keys, and he admired their smoothness and shine. Sighing and rolling his broad shoulders, he tilted his head up slightly, reacquainting himself with the notes that were sitting in front of him, waiting patiently to be played.

"Thank you, England."

The second man, who had been standing near the window and admiring the sunset himself, jerked in slight surprise and turned to look at the younger with a relatively emotionless expression, thought it wasn't meant to look so distant. America simply looked back at him with adoring, happy eyes that seemed to warm the older slightly, and caused a light tinting of red to be dusted across his pale, creamy cheeks. Smiling a bit in return at his former charge, he shrugged a bit and looked back out the window, unable to keep eye contact.

"I had no use for a new piano. I've always preferred the violin, I assumed you'd enjoy it far more than I would. You're quite welcome, in any case. "

The elder did not gain a response from the American, however, who was too busy looking over his old piano music. Much of it had been given to him from England, or Austria, or France. Some of it he had gone out and had purchased himself, but he didn't have a very good taste in music. Flipping through his folder, he couldn't quite decide what he wanted to play, all he knew was that he wanted to play badly. It had been a few years since his own piano had gotten so out of tune it would occasionally make the baby that lived next door begin to cry and the birds stop singing outside. Instead of paying a ridiculous sum of money to get the old thing re-tuned and repaired, he had simply chunked it.

Hands lingering over a piece, he blushed lightly and said,"Come sit by me, England. Listen to me play."

"I can listen from here, can't I?" England asked quietly, turning to glance at him again. His hands ran along the windowsill, and he elegantly tilted his head in an inquiring manner. Shaking his head, America frowned and beckoned the older to come to him.

"No, come here, please."

Appearing mildly confused, but content nonetheless, England walked across the room and sat down on the opposite end of the piano bench from America, crossing one of his legs over the other. Clad in black slacks and a crimson sweater vest, as well as pristinely shined black dress shoes, England looked as perfect as ever, not a single hair out of place. The same, however, could not be said for his eyebrows. For a split second (America had learned if you stared for more than three seconds that the older would indeed notice and very well get offended) the nation preparing to play the piano looked over the fuzzy creatures on England's face and came to the conclusion that the other still looked adorable with them, despite how horribly hairy they were.

Finally choosing a piece, America sighed and popped his knuckles briefly and rolled his wrists. He wasn't as dressed up as England (as usual), choosing to dress rather casually with a white cotton T-shirt, blue jeans, and a new pair of red sneakers. With his silly grin, he elbowed England's arm lightly in an are-you-ready? manner and placed his fingers upon the keys. Arthur gave him an irritated look and turned his head away. Licking his lips, he began to play. It was weak at first, he was unsure of himself and he was worried he'd mess up the notes like he used to ever so much, but as he played, he realized that it was just as easy and natural as he had remembered it. Clearing his throat, he decided that if he was going to play, why not sing with the music?

"_It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside_...,"he sang softly, finally picking up the tempo, his fingers gliding across the instrument like a phantom through his childhood dreams.

"_I'm not one of those who can easily hide,_

_I don't have much money, but boy if I did,_

_I'd buy a big house where we both could live_..."

He wasn't looking at England, far too gone in the music to be paying attention to the very man who he was attempting to court. To be honest, he didn't know if the other liked Elton John, but he knew for a fact that he quite enjoyed the movie Moulin Rouge (probably mostly because of Ewan McGregor), so he figured this would be a safe choice of a song. Fingers curved in a way that even Austria would admire, he put more soul into his playing, as if his very heart had been put into the piano and every note he played let out the beautiful sound of his undying love. Bowing his head, he registered that his eyes were barely open, just enough to glance at the notes he had to play, but he knew this song well and soon enough his eyelids had shut completely as he toiled.

"_If I was a sculptor, but then again, no,_

_Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show,_

_I know it's not much but it's the best I can do,_

_My gift is my song and this one's for you_..."

England shifted beside him, America could feel the bench creak slightly beneath it. He almost stopped playing when he heard the other's voice accompany him as he reached the chorus, though it was hoarse and quiet. Smiling slightly, he couldn't help but think of how well their voices sounded together as his fingers danced, and how England should bring his violin the next time he visited so that they could play together.

"_And you can tell everybody this is your song,_

_It may be quite simple but now that it's done,_

_I hope you don't mind,_

_I hope you don't mind that I put down in words,_

_How wonderful life is while you're in the world_..."

The two finished the song after singing the last few verses together, America playing loudly and pouring his entire being into that new piano, and England singing almost inaudibly but still singing, still trying, still offering something to his former colony to show that he appreciated it, that he loved it. Drawing his fingers back from the piano, America looked rather smug, and he commented sweetly,"I was hoping you'd like that song."

Rolling his eyes, England murmured,"I've always enjoyed Elton John's music, I've never met a person who doesn't."

Laughing brightly, America brushed his dull blond hair out of his face and shut the piano gently, moving to put his pieces back into his folder. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, but he was feeling quite confident considering that his plan had seemed to work. Taking the older nation's hand, he gave it a tender squeeze and a sigh.

"I really wanted you to... I-I mean, what I'm trying to say is... England, I really-"

Covering America's mouth with his free hand, England shook his head slowly and chuckled huskily,"I understand. You're pretty sweet when you try to be, you know. You've also improved since that last time I've heard to play, but then again, the last time I heard you play... Well, it was before the Revolutionary War, anyways. I didn't think you had taken to the piano so much."

Pulling England's hand away from his mouth, he held it just like the other and leaned over, kissing England's cheek.

"You taught me all I know, I just worked from there. It took me a long time to be any good, since I was teaching myself most of the time with no help. Austria kinda helped a little, and Canada too, but I preferred making myself learn it alone."

Looking embarrassed and perhaps mildly offended, England flushed and tried to ignore the kiss that had been bestowed upon him. Instead, he turned towards the piano, tapping a few of the keys in mild interest.

"I did my best, I suppose,"England sighed, feeling a bit foolish. "I don't honestly remember how to play all that well anymore."

America smiled at the blond beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist, whispering in his ear,"I'll teach you, if you'll let me." The older shuddered, placing his fingers on the keys again and smirking in return to the younger's offer.

"Teach me, then."


End file.
